One of the worst things about this past winter in Van was missing the year-round farmers market. Last season in Kelowna, i swear i lived off of stored root vegetables (so many carrots...) yet never tired of them. More rutabaga was consumed in three months than in my entire life until then. In five years i had missed maybe three market days, if that, and working at the Kelowna one last year solidified my devotion. Vancouver filled me up with California, and i immediately took up my cheaters version (there's a few self-allowed exceptions: we cant grow coffee here, after all, but we do roast a mean bean) of the 100 mile diet, and the farmers market would be, again, my grocery shop for the week. Except this saturday.
Or perhaps all saturdays for the rest of the spring/summer/fall. Why, after just moving home to the provinces largest outdoor market, would i give it up so soon? Because i have to pick lettuce. At five thirty in the morning. At the farm that will eventually be mine. Because i have to show that i am devoted to the farm where i will pick my lettuce one day and many many days to come. It will be hard. I may even try to head there after three hours of picking greens. I will have to, eventually, for the heirloom beans that we dont grow. And honey. And pluots. Oh goodness, jsut wait for the pluots! I will definately go for the pluots. And probably much more.
I will definately not be going tomorrow, and i will certainly miss it. I love the feeling there as much as the seasonally contributed produce, love my market basket, and the early morning start. But tomorrow i need to sow my devotion, and weed instead of shop, plant instead of visit; need to make the farming life my life. And go into town on wednesday to get more honey.